To Walk in the Footsteps of Titans
by ThreeInOne
Summary: Post-Rebellion, sequel to "Go Rest High on that Mountain". Optimus Prime is dead, with no hope of returning. The Autobots invade Darkmount, unaware of this news, and Smokescreen is forced to take hesitant leadership as the new Prime. Will he prove himself, or is he just a shadow of a Prime? Rated T, be advised, anyone can die.
1. Chapter 1

**((Alright, so, I've had at least one person ask for me to write more and I've been on a role, so here's a sequel. This will follow two basic storylines: Smokescreen accepting the mantel of Prime and the Autobots attempting to survive the Decepticons, both of which will intermix. There is Cybertronian cursing, and character deaths. Listen to me CAREFULLY: No one is safe. Not even your favorite character is safe, anyone can die. I've already killed off two in this chapter and if I kill off a character it's either because the flow of the story demands it or because I want to add a twist in the plot. I can assure you, even humans will die. That said, read at your own risk. This starts after my story "Go Rest High on that Mountain" so read it if you are confused.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Transformers Prime. At all. Ever.))**

**TO WALK IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF TITANS**

**CHAPTER 1: TURMOIL**

Smokescreen had never expected this: he'd never expected being forced into this situation. Here he was, miles underground with a badly-injured, nearly-dead Prime and no way to heal him. The Autobot rookie was exhausted himself, pushed to the edge of his wits, and was absolutely _terrified _of what might happen, what _would _happen if he didn't get Optimus to Ratchet in time. The main comlink had gone down when the base had, he knew, and communication was impossible. At his feet sat the Forge of Solus Prime, also useless, as Optimus refused to use it to heal himself. Smokescreen knew the urgency of reviving Cybertron but he also knew it to be impossible if Optimus offlined, here and now.

He was sitting beside his leader, doorwings hiked up high above his shoulders in a tense position, hands laced and set under his chin in thought. Maybe he could find a way to trace the Autobots' life signals if he went back onto the ship, used a terminal. But that was too risky; if he didn't do a complete scrub afterward, if Soundwave and the 'Cons found out, the 'Bots would be found out, and the war would be good as over.

_Maybe it already _is _over, _Smokescreen thought, then immediately scolded himself. _Oh man, what am I thinking? This war's not over as long as Optimus is still kicking. Speaking of which…_ Smokescreen glanced over at his leader, deep in recharge, his ventilations becoming harsher. _I should probably wake him up._ 'Screen unlaced his hands and carefully shook Optimus's shoulder, just enough so that the Prime's optics onlined, shifting to look up at him.

"Who stands before me?" the Prime whispered, voice rasping.

"What?" Smokescreen canted his head, confused by the Prime's question. "Optimus, it's me, Smokescreen."

"Who stands before me?" Optimus repeated, his optics flashing like Morse code.

"Optimus," Smokescreen waved a hand before the Prime's face. His optics did not follow the motion, instead fixated on the ceiling, on a world only he could see. "Optimus? Do you hear me?"

"Is it really you," the Prime whispered, "Alpha Trion?"

_Huh? _Smokescreen turned to look where Optimus was, only seeing smooth rock. _He's delirious. _"Optimus, Alpha Trion's not here." There was no reply. "Optimus?"

The Prime was very still now, his mouth moving but no words coming out. Smokescreen could make out the words 'Matrix of Leadership' but that was it. 'Screen started as Optimus suddenly shook, convulsed. "Optimus!" The Prime was dying, fading. "No, no, no. This isn't how it's supposed to end." An idea flashed into his processor, a crazy one, but an idea never the less. Smokescreen stumbled over to the Forge of Solus Prime and, grabbing one end, proceeded to drag it over to Optimus's outstretched hand. He, oh so carefully, placed the end in Optimus's grip, ignoring the fact that the mech's optics had gone black, frame completely still.

The Forge did not activate. It too remained still, lifeless, a gleaming hunk of yellow and silver.

"No," Smokescreen took a step back. "No. Optimus." He approached his leader, crouching beside him. "Optimus, you've got to be in there, you've got to be alive. Optimus!" He placed a hand on either of Optimus's shoulders and shook, frantic, fearful. "Optimus! Optimus, please! OPTIMUS!" The Prime did not answer; his limbs and head shook, metal rattling.

"Nononononono," Smokescreen backed up, holding his head with his hands. "I can't do this alone—I can't. Optimus, I'm not ready, please…come back," the last bit of his speech trailed off, sounding more like a child pleading to a parent. As if in response to his words, Optimus's chest shuddered. Chestplates expanded and pushed out to reveal a glowing blue light: a crystal orb, set in an orange container, silver handles on either side.

"The Matrix of Leadership," Smokescreen realized. He took another step back. "No, I can't be a Prime, I'm not ready, I won't!" He shouted at the Matrix. "I won't be your Prime! Optimus, he's your Prime! Bring him back!"

There was still no response and silent fell like a suffocating blanket through the cavern. It was too quiet, much too quiet, and tight. Smokescreen had never been claustrophobic, but now—now it felt as though the walls were closing in on him, growing tighter and tighter, until they would crush him like a car compactor. He had to get out of there. 'Screen switched on the phase shifter and turned away from his leader's corpse, from the glowing light within him, watching, demanding. And Smokescreen did something he never thought he'd ever do.

He ran. Up and up through layers of rock and stone, until he'd breached the surface and was in the near-post-apocalyptic outskirts of Jasper, in the remains of the base. High above towered Darkmount, like a looming sentinel. The rookie looked toward it, picking out the ship near the top, feeling anger growing and swirling about inside him.

It was Megatron's fault. Megatron was the one who had killed Optimus, he was the one who had unleashed the blast on their leader. No, no, it couldn't be Smokescreen, who had had a chance to save him, to repair him and had left him to die, to rust, all for some stupid relic that didn't even work, and now he was supposed to end it all, and how could he do that—

It was Megatron. And, by Primus, Smokescreen would avenge Optimus, one way or another.

Starting with a little trip to see the Dark Lord himself.

* * *

All in all, the mission was going rather well. The distraction team was already succeeding and, while the infiltration team was encountering a bit of resistance, Ultra Magnus was sure that they would be able to succeed and blow Darkmount off the face of the Earth. He was currently attempting to shut down the fusion cannons' power core, which was proving easier than expected. He had already disabled all of the drones in the room and was about to destroy the core.

And that was when Megatron had shown up. The Decepticon leader had challenged him and Ultra Magnus had been quickly defeated and restrained.

Which all led up to now, at the top of Darkmount, in front of Megatron's throne. Heavy footsteps indicated the arrival of the tyrant, lighter, clacking footsteps following as his second-in-command was closely behind. Magnus onlined his optics, gazing up at the gray face, chilling red optics.

"All of the Autobots have been detained and are accounted for, my liege," Starscream reported with a sweep of an arm. "Optimus Prime is not among them."

"Oh really?" Megatron turned to Magnus. "And where is your leader?"

"If I knew," Magnus replied, "I wouldn't tell you."

Megatron frowned, nearly scowling. "Alright then," Magnus felt a cold weight touch the back of his neck and force his head forward, and felt fear pierce his spark. He had enough time to wonder what it was before the fusion cannon shot exploded through his helm with the force of a sledgehammer through a watermelon. Metal, protoform, and processor-parts exploded outward to litter the floor, the ragged stump of a neck left, the headless body falling to the ground with a clang. Megatron spun on his heel to face his SIC, acting like he hadn't just terminated a defenseless prisoner in cold blood. Starscream, on the other hand, was wincing at the mess. "See to it that our prisoners are executed, and send a strike force to destroy the _Harbinger._" Megatron kicked Magnus's corpse with contempt. "It is time to finish this, once and for all."

Starscream grinned, casting one last scathing look at Magnus and muttering a quick, "Yes, Lord Megatron" before leaving. The Autobot prisoners were being kept in Darkmount's brig, under heavy lock and key. He would have fun listening to their screams as they offlined, knowing that the most underestimated mech of them all was their killer. Maybe this would even be enough to steal glory from that irritating _Shockwave _and put the spotlight back on him.

Starscream was caught up in his internal fantasy as he traveled down into the depths of the fortress, Vehicons saluting as he passed. He was unaware of the lithe shape following him like his own shadow, reaching the intended floor in record time.

The brig was crammed with Autobots and his optics swept over their battered frames, desolate looks, while simultaneously making connections: Wheeljack, Bulkhead, Arcee, Bumblebee. Only three were missing: Ratchet, Smokescreen, and Optimus Prime, and the first was about to be dead as well.

"Well well," Wheeljack grinned, head rising to meet Starscream's optics firmly. "Look who they sent to finish us off. I'm not worried, _Screamy,_" Starscream growled at the use of the nickname, "I've faced your extermination attempts before. Nothing to write home about."

"Except for _this _time," the Seeker crowed, "there will be no one here to save you. Not with your precious _leader _resting in the scrapheap."

It took them a moment to process this. "Magnus," Bulkhead sat up sharply. "What did you do to him?"

"Lord Megatron blew his head off," Starscream casually examined a talon. "Nothing, really." He secretly reveled in the Autobots' horrified expressions, drinking it in like the sweetest high grade. "Your deaths will be much more…grandiose."

"I'd like to see you try," Arcee hissed, propping herself up. Bumblebee buzzed an affirmation on her part.

Starscream turned to a few of the Vehicons, standing nearby, ready to help. "Bring the prisoners out and take them to the smelting pit. We'll dispose of them that way."

"Yes, Commander Starscream," the energy bars were taken away and the cuffed Autobots were pushed forward and out into the hall. They were forced to comply and escorted down the hall, Starscream following, smug. Wheeljack kept casting looks back at the Seeker over his shoulder, only to earn a blaster barrel jabbed into his back. Bulkhead was easily as bitter, looking as though he wanted to smash apart the Vehicons if not for the fact that he would be ripped to shreds if he did. Bumblebee looked dejected, wings at their lowest point, and he occasionally emitted a mourning beep. Arcee's venomous look at the Seeker rivaled Wheeljack's. A pathetic, hopeless lot they were, with a dead commander and a missing leader. They were struggling with the shambles of what they had once had, desperate. And now they would be dead, soon.

And that was when the shadow decided to strike. The Vehicon at the front fell screaming, his legs suddenly severed by an outside force. The Autobots were taken aback, the other Vehicons on edge. Four pairs of blasters were cocked, pointed about wantonly.

"Commander Starscream, there's no one-" the mech that had been talking was cut off when he found himself cut in half vertically, body falling apart at either side. Another Vehicon began shooting at the ceiling in a frenzy, ceased when a laser shot pierced his spark and sent him keeling over. The last two Vehicons backed away from the Autobots, prepping to run, but before they could, the unseen force slashed both their heads in half, sending them falling.

"What?" Starscream gasped, backing up in fear. It had all happened so fast, and now he was the only one left, not including the chained Autobots. The Autobots were just as shocked, if not more. "What just-" The Seeker took a step back and immediately activated his comm. "Lord Megatron, there is an Autobot intruder in the base!" He flinched at a burst of static over the line. "Lord Megatron? Does anyone read me?"

The Seeker was torn from his attempted communiqué by a thick, steel cable stabbing into his chest, puncturing right through his spark chamber and clipping his Decepticon symbol. The cable was snaked out, the Seeker dead before he hit the floor.

"Wha-What just happened?" Bulkhead managed to say, eyeing the corpses warily.

"_I _happened," a voice announced and there was a clang as feet hit the floor, and a figure dropped down in front of the group.

"Whoa," Bulkhead's optics widened.

"That's-not possible," Arcee shook her head, while 'Bee beeped and buzzed.

"You," Wheeljack growled.

* * *

Outside Darkmount, oblivious to all that had happened there, was Smokescreen, his gaze determined, the phase shifter active on his arm. He would do this, he had to do this, Optimus would be avenged, Megatron would fall…

But could he really do it? Optimus had had a hard time facing down Megatron, and that was when he was at peak performance. Besides, the tower was bound to be full of guards, and he had no idea where Megatron would be. Besides, he couldn't leave Optimus down in that cavern to rust.

So he returned. He passed back through the layers of rock and stone into the cavern, where Optimus still lay, his frame now completely gunmetal gray. The Matrix was still visible, no longer glowing though, nearly as dead as its owner.

Smokescreen bent down, arms wrapping around Optimus's chest and pulling, tugging. The dead weight didn't even budge, and 'Screen pulled back with a sigh. The Matrix flickered weakly, as though reacting to his presence. Smokescreen frowned at it. "What am I supposed to do?" he muttered, defeated. "I'm not a Prime. Pit, I'm not even close to being a Prime. I can't even work up the courage to fight Megatron." The rookie kicked a rock in frustration, before looking at the Matrix again. "But I've got to do something." He reached over, each hand grabbing a handle of the Matrix. With a quick tug he yanked it out of Optimus's chest and the dead Prime slumped back onto the rock.

Smokescreen examined the Matrix, slightly awed to be in the presence of such a powerful Cybertronian artifact. The crystal in the center had started to glimmer and it suddenly brightened up, glowing and pulsing with life, almost like a mini-spark. The light grew brighter, brighter, blinding, and it surrounded him, washing over him. He felt peace, calm, wisdom beyond his years, unfamiliar whispers flowing into his audios, speaking ancient prophecies and singing old lullabies long before his time. He felt a warmth that spread throughout his whole frame, tingling, twisting his insides. It was unusual and yet pleasant at the same time.

And then, agony.

**((Who is this mysterious savior of the Autobots? What has happened to Smokescreen? Why am I asking these questions? Stay tuned to find out, not counting the last one.))**


	2. Chapter 2

**((Alright, here's the deal. I have already written out four chapters to this and, so far, I have a body count of 7. This story will be one I may update often, while Red and Blue KickAft will be worked on and edited tremendously. Now, I want your output, so tell me if the cliffhanger endings I have are good or not, or if you want me to stop killing off people so rapidly. I was planning on introducing new characters later to balance everything out, so, yeah. But still, feedback is important.**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own Transformers. At all.))**

**Chapter 2- Escape from Darkmount**

Primus Prima Megatronous Prime Vector Prime

It was all too much.

Nexus Prime Solus Prime Liege Maximo Alchemist Prime

Please, make it stop.

Amalgamous Prime, Sentinel Prime, Zeta Prime, Optimus Prime

Primus, dear Primus, whywhy_why?!_

Cybertron Unicron Autobots Decepticons war battles poison Dark Energon

Why wouldn't it shut off, turn off, _shut up?_

Battles many battles death war famine plague AllSpark hope Prime you Prime next Prime Prime Prime Prime Prime Prime.

_You are the next Prime._

Smokescreen screamed in pain, in fear, in something as information flooded his processor, information beyond his ability to comprehend. Decades passed, centuries, millennia, eons. He saw the rise and fall of great cities, great societies, the Age of Exploration, the Silver Age, the Golden Age, the War for Cybertron, the Fall of Cybertron, the Energon that stained the hull of their planet-god and flooded down to caress his spark in a sickly-sweet, morbid way, easing the pain wrought to him by the poisoning that was in him, it was still in him, eating him alive, and _by Primus why wouldn't it stop?_

At last the torrent of information slowed to a trickle, and then stopped entirely. Smokescreen dropped to one knee, gasping. The Matrix was no longer in his hands, though he could feel it humming in his chest, burning a hole beside his spark. His frame felt heavier and he was aware that it had changed, but he couldn't look up, couldn't talk, for fear of biting his own glossa off.

It hurt, it still hurt, his body, his head, like someone had poured acid into his processor and it had devoured apart vital components keeping him going, keeping him sane. It was flawed, cracked, breaking at the seams.

_Nonono, don't think like that, keep it in, have to keep the demons in._

_Stop it, pull yourself together! Don't let them control you!_

_Don't listen to him, just stay calm, don't panic, stay calm._

_Slag you, whywhywhywhywhy?_

_Shut up, shut up, just SHUT UP ALL OF YOU!_

It was a mental race inside of Smokescreen's head, voices shouting, screaming, in a roiling wave of frenzied clawing and boiling, all desperate to be heard, to take control, to have control. Smokescreen gripped his helm, shaking it. He was shivering, why was he shivering, it wasn't even cold…

It was too much and, before the mech knew it, his helm had sparked and he fell, collapsing onto the floor.

Before he blacked out, he was certain that he saw Optimus sit up, and give him a look that was full of pity.

* * *

"Why am I not surprised that you'd have shown up?" Wheeljack addressed the mech before him, taking a bold step forward. Soundwave didn't say a word in response. Instead, he allowed an Energon-caked tentacle to snake toward Wheeljack, ripping the restraints off his hands with little effort. He duplicated the action with the other Autobots, until they were all freed and rubbing their sore wrists.

"What, not going to say anything?" 'Jack taunted. "Never took you as one to run from a fight.

Soundwave was silent for a moment, before playing back a recording: "_Ah, ah, aaahhhh, ha ha ha ha, ah yeah, ah yeah ahh, ahhhhhhhhhhhhh…Don't make me mad." _He immediately followed it up with, _"Hey punk, I don't need a weapon to kill you."_

"Yeesh, touchy," Wheeljack muttered.

"Wait, wait, hold up," Arcee held up a hand. "Why would _Soundwave _save us?"

"Yeah, he's Megatron's right-hand man," Bulkhead added.

_"I have my reasons," _Soundwave replied cryptically, turning on his heel. _"Wheeljack," _the Wrecker gave a suspicious look at 'Wave. Soundwave turned back to look at him, before his tentacles struck. Wheeljack was yanked forward, Soundwave's mask retracted, and mouths met as 'Wave kissed 'Jack, quite passionately actually. The Autobots stared in confusion up until 'Wave let 'Jack go and slammed his mask back down, blocking their only chance to look at his face.

_"Yowza," _the Decepticon third-in-command played back, almost to himself. He practically tossed Wheeljack aside, giving the advice of, _"Start running," _before he strode down the hall and out of sight.

Wheeljack rubbed his mouth, one optic ridge raised. "That was weird," he muttered to himself. He turned, noticing the shocked looks. "We have a history. It's complicated, and I'll explain it later." His pointed look pretty much said: _Don't say a word about this to anyone._

"Right," Arcee nodded. "We can take advantage of this. C'mon, let's get out of here." The four 'Bots started down the hall in the opposite direction, blasters readied. The twisting halls of Darkmount were nearly a labyrinth as the Autobots moved swiftly in silence, searching for an exit. Occasionally they would hear a Vehicon approaching and would duck for cover but, luckily, they weren't noticed.

"It feels like we're going in circles," Bulkhead groaned after they had entered the same storage room twice.

"Hey, you! Freeze!" a voice shouted. Two Vehicons stood in the doorway, weapons drawn, blasters cycling. Multiple footsteps in the hallway indicated the arrival of backup.

"Scrap," Arcee summed it up nicely.

* * *

_He's not responding._

_Unconscious? Dying, maybe?_

_Nonono, he can't, he won't, he mustn't-_

_You're right, absolutely right, couldn't have said it better._

_Wake up wake up WAKE UP!_

Smokescreen's optics onlined slowly, his systems sluggish, half in recharge. Then, with a sudden click and a series of very fast whirrs, he was completely online, hyperaware of his surroundings.

The floor was cold, wet, the walls dripping with moisture, no sun, no light, save for his own optics, a slight tap-tap-tapping on the far left, the bittersweet scent of decay and death-

'Screen was lying facedown on the floor and he pushed himself up, propping up on his elbows. His body was extremely heavy now and he stumbled as he rose up, bumbling about as though a newborn sparkling. It took him some time but he was able to sit up and prop himself against a rock.

_He's alive._

_Good. Need him._

_Important._

_New Prime._

_Prime Prime Prime._

Smokescreen shook his head, forcing himself to ignore the voices in his head, the ones that spoke to him even though he was sure that no one else was there. Well, no one else but Optimus, and Smokescreen wasn't on speaking terms with him right now. He'd tried to leave Smokescreen, to give him a role he didn't need, but he was back now, he could take it back.

By Primus, he was going _insane._

The realization made 'Screen force himself to stand, to take unsteady steps forward. He felt different, thought different. Too tight too small too dark no sky wanted out needed out had to get out. He activated the phase shifter and forced himself to go through the wall.

It was worse here, this void, pushing into him, crushing him. He raced upward desperately, as though a swimmer surfacing for air.

Oh, look, the sky. He deactivated the phase shifter and fell back on his aft, staring up at the clouded sky with a smile on his face. The voices weren't as loud, as agitated, and he felt content as well.

Peaking into the sky in front of him was Darkmount. Hadn't he been here before, in this situation? It was hard to remember, to discern if it was reality or fantasy.

_Megatron is waiting._

_Yes, Megatron._

_Kill him. Avenge Prime._

_Kill him._

Smokescreen couldn't speak, for fear of losing what little grip he had left on his sanity.  
Instead, he nodded an affirmation at the mental nudging. Standing, he began to slowly walk toward Darkmount.

* * *

Meanwhile, in a different part of the tower, a shootout was occurring between the Autobots and Decepticons. The 'Bots were holed up in the storage room, fighting off any Vehicons that had tried to break in. The drones had practically swarmed them, 20 or 30 busting down the doors.

The automated defenses had helped, taking out a good chunk of mechs and indicating that Soundwave was still helping them, for what reasons only Wheeljack knew. Now a group of about 10 Vehicons were left, and there were more on their way.

Arcee raised up over the crate, letting loose a blast that hit two drones in the sparks. Bulkhead hit another in the head, while three more were dropped by Bumblebee. The remaining four took up defensive positions. One earned Wheeljack's sword in his head, thrown like a javelin. Bulkhead smashed another with his mace and Arcee cut the next one apart. The last one attempted to run but a volley of gunfire from a turret ended that.

"Well that wasn't too hard," Wheeljack pulled his sword out of the corpse, sheathing both of them.

"I'm still not reaching Ratchet," Arcee reported, hand falling to her side. "The jammers must still be active. We need to find a way out of here, one that doesn't involve 'Cons biting at our heels."

**_Alert, alert! Autobot sighted on Deck Five! _**A voice blared over the intercom, startling all four 'Bots. **_Move to intercept! I repeat, take 'em out!_**

"Another Autobot…Optimus?" Bulkhead voiced hopefully. Bumblebee buzzed in agreement.

"Let's find out," the four 'Bots exited the storage room and followed the sound of rushing feet and cycling blasters down a few levels, staying out of sight, until they reached Deck Five.

One mech was facing a whole squadron of Vehicons, walking along without fear. He was about as tall as Starscream, paint a whitish-gray with red and blue. An Autobot symbol graced his chest, shoulders spiked up, arms long and somewhat thick, legs a bit slimmer, torso smaller while his chest and upper body was barrel-chested, a yellowish-orange cockpit centered in the middle. Two pointed wings stuck out of his back, a decal 38 on each one. The crest on his head was noticeably longer, optics blank and distant.

"Smokescreen?" Bulkhead asked. "Whoa, what happened to him?"

Said mech walked straight toward his opponents, but acted oblivious to his surroundings, not saying a word or recognizing his foes.

"Halt, Autobot," One Vehicon snapped forcefully. Smokescreen remained distant, walking as though on autopilot. The Vehicons immediately opened fire.

But 'Screen didn't even flinch. The shots went right through him, pockmarking the metal floor behind him. The phase shifter glowed on his wrist.

Smokescreen still didn't show any sign of awareness even when the other Autobots attacked the Vehicons, reducing them all to scrap metal in record time.

"Smoke, how did you even get…here?" Bulkhead trailed off. "Uh, Smoke?"

"Smokescreen," Arcee waved a hand in front of his face. She reached down and clicked the phase shifter off. "Smokescreen." She touched the mech's shoulder, before shaking him and shouting in his audio, "Smokescreen!"

The mech blinked, shook his head and looked down at Arcee. He looked puzzled, as though he didn't know where he was. Then he did something very unexpected.

He giggled.

"Hey 'Cee," the rookie slurred, swaying drunkenly. He took two steps back and nearly toppled over. Bulkhead and Bumblebee caught him, though, and eased him into a sitting position. He looked about. "Where are we? What happened?"

"You don't remember?" Arcee asked, worriedly.

'Screen shook his head. "Nope. I remember leaving the cave because it was dark, and Optimus…" he trailed off, brows furrowed in thought.

"You saw Optimus?" Bulkhead asked. "Haha, I knew he'd be alright! Where is he, and how soon can he get here?"

"He's…" Smokescreen paused, words trailing off. He remained quiet, almost as though in thought.

Then the Seeker surged to his feet, knocking Bulkhead aside. "No no, I'm not ready, why me, why now, I can't do this, I can't!" he muttered to himself, seemingly agitated by the question. "Can't do it, not me, gotta save him, not my fault. Megatron, not me, he did it, didn't do it, not my fault." The rookie suddenly screamed. Before anyone could react, he'd charged Bumblebee and ended up throwing the youngling against the wall. Now Bumblebee was screaming as Smokescreen, his look one of primal, unrestrained rage, grabbed his doorwings and twisted, attempting to rip them clear off 'Bee's frame.

"Hey, whoa!" Bulkhead and Wheeljack were propelled in action, each grabbing one of 'Screen's arms and pulling to try and dislodge him from 'Bee. Smokescreen snarled at them. He lashed and struggled when they managed to pull him away, Arcee crouching beside the keening 'Bee to check on him.

"What in the Pit was that?" Bulkhead demanded, casting 'Screen a glare. He suddenly found Smokescreen's arms wrapped around him, in a tight, forced hug. The rookie was shivering, shaking.

"It _hurts_!" 'Screen wailed, in terror, in pain. "Make it stop make it stop make it stop!" He beat his fists against Bulkhead's chest as though trying to alleviate the problem. Then, as quickly as the tantrum had started, it stopped. Smokescreen was deathly quiet, deathly still.

"Make them stop talking," he pleaded. That was before he fell to the ground in a shivering mess, unconscious.

The silence remained, until Wheeljack finally said, "We might have a problem."

* * *

'Bee, luckily, was not badly injured, although pain in his doorwings would remain until Ratchet could fix them. With Soundwave's assistance, the group made it out of Darkmount without any further altercations, Bulkhead carrying Smokescreen bridal style.

"Ratchet, we need a bridge," Arcee reported into the comlink. "Ratchet? I'm still not getting a response." At that moment, a spiraling green vortex opened up, right in front of them.

"Doc must've heard you," Wheeljack said as they went through. "Maybe he's just not feeling chatty to…Primus above." The Wrecker had stopped in his tracks, face full of astonishment and horror.

"What is it, 'Jack-no," Bulkhead stopped and stared. Bumblebee and Arcee noticed quickly and both felt their sparks stop.

Right in front of them, hemmed in by rocks on nearly all sides, were the fiery remains of the _Harbinger._

**((Yeah, Smokescreen's Generation 2 incarnation was a jet, and I wanted a flying guy, sooo, voila. Also, your favorite rookie is about to be taken to the depths of the Pit to dine with Unicron, his fate is that bad. Yep, ol Smokey's crazy. As for the reason why, it's a movie-verse thing I picked up. Try to figure it out and I will explain it to you in a couple of chapters.))**


End file.
